


original color

by thunderylee



Category: KinKi Kids
Genre: Angst, BDSM themes, Canon Universe, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-29
Updated: 2007-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tsuyoshi drowns in a sea of metaphors along with his undying love.





	original color

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

The sun shines down, warming the bench that’s still cold despite the clear, bright day. The backs of Tsuyoshi’s thighs are numb from the almost-frozen metal but still he sits, oblivious to the hustling and bustling of the world around him as he’s lost in his own.

A book sits open on his lap, some best-seller from some famous author that bores him to tears and therefore lays neglected in favor of a spot about halfway between the two tallest trees in the park. This spot is no different than any of the others in the pale blue sky, but Tsuyoshi’s attention is drawn there, fixated even, his eyes locked on those exact coordinates as his mind wanders far past the physical definiteness and deep into an undefined realm that only he knows.

It’s there that he can imagine things that will never be, at least not in this lifetime. An existence where he can be free, honest, and happy. A world where he doesn’t have the next ten years of his life planned out for him, he doesn’t have to lie to everyone around him, and he’s not eternally alone. A time and place where his preferred lifestyle is acceptable, and an alternate universe where his preferred partner holds Tsuyoshi deep in his heart even half as much as Tsuyoshi holds him.

A horn sounds from the nearby train and Tsuyoshi crashes back to reality once again. Making a face at his reading entertainment, if it could be called that, he angrily slams it closed and leaves it on the bench for someone else, not looking back as he puts one foot in front of the other, heading in the general direction of his apartment. It’s his only day off this week and he has laundry to do.

~*~*~*~

He doesn’t remember his bedroom ceiling being this interesting on any of the other thousands of nights he’s lain awake, but the streets outside are particularly busy tonight and therefore the rays of light shining in from the window are creating undiscovered constellations that change continuously, like a slideshow of abstract art set on high speed.

Appropriately enough, it reminds Tsuyoshi of _him_. The brake lights shine a red glow, mixed with the dull white to create a deep, dusky pink. _His_ color. The color of innocence, of femininity, of all of the things that he is most definitely not. Tsuyoshi smiles in irony – this shade of pink is the exact color his face would be if he ever discovered how Tsuyoshi actually thinks of him on nights like this.

Irony is arousing. Tsuyoshi should be ashamed, but it’s been going on for far too long for his conscience to interfere anymore. The pink lights on the ceiling continue to paint intricate patterns above his head, which become far away and distorted as he switches over to his mind’s eye, staring unseeingly as his hand trails lightly down his bare chest.

In times like these, when the feelings are so strong, he can almost fool himself into believing that he’s not alone, that the hand touching him so intimately isn’t his, that his unabashed moans of raw pleasure are caused by someone else. By _him_. His partner wouldn’t be this slow and delicate, though; it’s not in his character. He’d be fast and shamelessly rough, unforgiving and arrogant, and Tsuyoshi would love every _second_ of it. Maybe he’d growl when he got close, dig his nails into Tsuyoshi’s skin enough to break it open, wrap his fingers around Tsuyoshi’s throat until he’s blue in the face and spasming in pleasure for every breath he’s denied.

Tonight’s release is more intense than normal, and his first thought upon coming down is that he might have a reputation amongst the neighbors by now. Although he’s conditioned himself not to speak his dream lover’s name anymore, anything is possible when he’s lost in the depths of his own imagination and overcome by the instinct of passion.

An abnormal blue radiance, undoubtedly from a street light reflecting off of somebody’s side mirror just right, joins the scattered pink on the ceiling. Tsuyoshi peers at it curiously, noting how the pink seems unperplexed as to the blue’s existence and just carries on with its business of decorating the ceiling. It’s symbolic in ways that Tsuyoshi can only understand, not explain, and if he were a more optimistic person, he might view the entire analogy as a sign.

~*~*~*~

She’s not him, but she’ll do.

She’s nowhere near him, but her hair is fluffy and her shoulders are broad and if Tsuyoshi squints just enough, she looks like what _he_ might look like from the back.

Her skin becomes flushed when she’s aroused, which probably everyone’s does but hers is more noticeable. It’s like all of her skin turns pink, and when Tsuyoshi grips her hips particularly roughly, he leaves the smallest blue bruise.

She’s tight, not a virgin but close, but it’s not like he’s fucking her like a girl anyway. She’s into that, it’s the second reason he chose her, the third being because she keeps her mouth shut unless there’s a cock in it.

The first is because her name is Kouko.

~*~*~*~

Just tell him, the voice inside his head berates.

Every time Tsuyoshi looks at him, he hears this voice. Every time Tsuyoshi looks at him, he starts to open his mouth only to be interrupted by either someone else or himself. He’s so undeniably beautiful, like an expensive painting that one can stare at for hours and never fully comprehend. Tsuyoshi has gotten caught staring so many times that the other man has either gotten used to it or isn’t fazed by it.

People stare at him all the time anyway. It’s part of his job, to be fawned over.

It’s been years and Tsuyoshi’s done everything but shout it from the rooftops. He supposes that his partner thinks that he’s kidding, all the times he’s said “I love you.” It’s gotten to the point where neither one of them falters anymore, Tsuyoshi in saying it and the other in reacting, and the latter no longer has that flash of fear in his eyes immediately following the words. Instead he puts on his fake smile for Tsuyoshi like he’s just another fan and Tsuyoshi’s heart sinks a little deeper in his chest.

It can’t be healthy, this obsession. This dream world that overrides his reality more often than not. Frequently he has to catch himself before he forgets that it’s _not real_ and says or does something that would be highly inappropriate in his actual life as he knows it.

When Tsuyoshi closes his eyes, they’re happy and in love. When he opens them, they’re distant coworkers. It’s like he’s living a double life, only not as tiring and nowhere near as satisfying. Kouko isn’t enough, his imagination isn’t enough, and seeing _him_ in the flesh as opposed to behind his eyes is more painful than if he would have hit him.

In his distraction, he cuts his finger on the script. The blood starts to ooze, bright and red, not gushing but just enough to be irritating to someone who’s about to go on stage. He finds a box of tissue, white with blue flowers, and wipes his wound quickly before tossing it aside and getting to work.

As he walks away, the blood seeps onto the designed flower and makes a brilliant shade of purple.

~*~*~*~

“I think I’m done with my solo career,” Kouichi says, all stage voice and matching smile. “I put out an album, I did a couple solo tours, I’ve been doing _Shock_ for so many years… I think I’m at the age where I need to settle down with just one passion, which is of course as half of KinKi Kids.”

“You say that like you’re settling down with a woman,” the interviewer comments with a laugh.

“He’s like a woman,” Kouichi replies, sticking a thumb towards Tsuyoshi. “Demanding all of my time, manipulating me into giving up my mistresses.”

“That’s right,” Tsuyoshi plays along. “You’re stuck with me now, forever.”

“No more part-time lovers,” reiterates Kouichi.

“Just me,” Tsuyoshi adds, using ‘atashi’ to emphasize the joke.

The interviewer smiles warmly. “How long do KinKi Kids plan to continue performing together?”

“Until we’re old and gray, I’d think,” Kouichi responds. “Or until this guy gets tired of me.”

“I’ll be on stage with my walker, singing for you until my dying day,” Tsuyoshi says dramatically.

“ _With_ me, you mean,” Kouichi corrects.

“Yes, that’s right.” Tsuyoshi pauses. “Just don’t beat me with your cane.”

Kouichi laughs. “I’m not making any promises.”

“Now that you’re older,” the interviewer begins, “are there any changes that will be made to the two of you as a group? Your fans have grown up too…”

“I think we’ve made the gradual progression from youth to adult already,” Kouichi answers. “As far as the two of us, though, I’d like to stop thinking of it in terms of ‘Kouichi and Tsuyoshi’ and more as ‘KinKi Kids’ together.”

“What do you mean?” the interviewer prompts.

“Purple microphones,” Kouichi replies simply.

“Eh?” Tsuyoshi speaks up. “I’ve heard nothing of this.”

“Up until now we’ve had different colored microphones,” Kouichi explains. “I’m pink and Tsuyoshi is blue. Together pink and blue make a light shade of purple. If we both have the same color, one especially created from our individuality, we are more likely to be viewed as a unit as opposed to separately.”

Tsuyoshi blinks. “I see.”

“So does this mean that Tsuyoshi-kun is giving up ‘Endlicheri-Endlicheri’ as well?” the interviewer asks.

“Um…” Tsuyoshi starts.

“I wouldn’t ask him to do such a thing,” Kouichi cuts in. “He can have his other lovers. It’s me who doesn’t want to be anyone other than a KinKi Kid now.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” Tsuyoshi says without thinking.

Kouichi laughs. “Think about it, okay? Your solo music is so much different than mine. It would be a shame for you to give it up.”

“I will think about it,” Tsuyoshi agrees, his mind already made up.

“In the meantime…” Kouichi reaches for a box next to his chair and presents it to Tsuyoshi. “It would be like me to give you an anniversary present six months later, wouldn’t it?”

Tsuyoshi chuckles appropriately and lifts open the top. Inside is his shiny purple microphone, his name in kanji at the very bottom and the phi symbol near the top.

Infinity. KinKi Kids forever. Tsuyoshi’s mind whirls.

“Thank you,” he finally says. “I’ll treasure it.”

“We are KinKi Kids together,” Kouichi tells the interviewer. “We started this together, and we’re going to end it together, whenever that may be.”

Tsuyoshi nods because he doesn’t trust his voice.

“Your solo fans will be sad to see you stop,” the interviewer says to Kouichi. “There are many who prefer you solo.”

“If they can’t support me with my original unit, they shouldn’t support me at all,” Kouichi says strongly, with the air of someone who will be lectured later for speaking so arrogantly. “That is not who I am. Tsuyoshi and I, together we are a team. A package deal.”

The interviewer laughs and turns to the camera to wrap up. “I for one can’t wait to see what will happen now that the KinKi Kids have in a sense reunited, closer than before. Now all grown up and with a new color that’s all their own, we can only expect them to keep getting better and better from their combined efforts. Ten years and counting, the best of luck to you both.”

“Thank you very much,” Kouichi and Tsuyoshi say in unison.

~*~*~*~

Tsuyoshi cherishes his purple microphone like it’s the diamond anniversary ring it was substituted for. Now that Kouichi is adamant about regressing back to the inseparable duo they were ten years ago, they’re spending nearly every waking minute together. Photo shoots, interviews, Doumoto Kyoudai, concert preparation. All the while Kouichi’s talking to him like he hasn’t done so in years, recalling stories that were glossed over in the past and encouraging Tsuyoshi to elaborate on them. Tsuyoshi feels like he finally has a friend in his partner, even if it’s just at work.

As the two separate colors progressively blend into one, Tsuyoshi’s dream world dissolves until it’s nothing more than a distant fantasy. He stops meeting with Kouko-chan, spends his days off resting instead of yearning, and finds an author he likes who keeps Tsuyoshi’s imagination active in a healthy way.

Each time he sings into the purple microphone, he’s filled with a warmth that no amount of physical contact could ever provide.

One night, he’s wide awake and still coming down from the high of a particularly vigorous performance, both emotionally and physically, and that’s when the pink lights start to dance on his ceiling again.

The next day, he places blue plastic wrap over his windows, closes his eyes, and pretends. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and while he knows that his fantasies will never become reality, he’s at peace knowing that he is the most important person in Kouichi’s life, even if it’s not in the way he wants to be.

And it’s enough.


End file.
